


And if he never kisses me, that's alright

by LaChatteNoire



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Eleanor is a shipper, F/M, M/M, UA - universe alteration, some meta-analytical waxing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaChatteNoire/pseuds/LaChatteNoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Eleanor ships Larry Stylinson like nobody else</p><p>Title is from the song 'Gay Boyfriend' by the Hazzards</p>
            </blockquote>





	And if he never kisses me, that's alright

**Author's Note:**

> So...here is my (small) contribution to the Larry fandom
> 
> No beta or britpicker. I'm not sure I'm too happy with this; I may go back an revise it at a later date. Let me know what you think?
> 
> Everything in italics is Eleanor's writing

_Finally, finally, finally; Louis almost cried for joy when he reached the door to his hotel room. Air conditioning, ice cold showers, air conditioning!_

_He had just endured a two-hour meet and greet in the hundred-degree weather, and although he admired the fans’ tenacity and adoration he really wondered how they could justify the sunburns and heat they had to endure. He had requested venue staff to go around offering water to the people in line, which hopefully helped a little._

_When Louis opened the door, he was almost smothered by the wave of heat that emanated from inside. He must have forgotten to turn on the air when he left. Ah, well, there was always the shower…_

_Stepping into the room, Louis froze to drink in the sight before him._

_Harry was spread out across the glass coffee-table, his back on the cool surface, and idly sucking a cream-colored ice lolly. He lazily turned his head towards the door and smiled mischievously at his gobsmacked boyfriend._

_“You’re naked.”_

_“I’m hot.” Harry licked the lolly from base to tip, letting the cool white liquid coat his tongue before swallowing it down._

_Louis reached up to his forehead, feeling perspiration coat his fingertips._

_“Join me,” Harry beckoned, his voice thick from the sticky liquid coating his throat._

_“I’m overheated.” Louis mock-complained, mirroring Harry’s lazy half-smile. Harry rolled onto his side and watched as Louis sauntered over, slowly peeling the hot, stifling clothes off._

_With a final easy grin, he kneeled next to the table. Harry slowly swiped the tip of the ice lolly over Louis’s lips, watching with interest as Louis darted his tongue out to meet his swipes._

_“Give it here.” Louis snatched it and made little stripes across Harry’s chest using the cold tip. He lapped at the cool liquid, its flavor intensified by the slight salt of his boyfriend’s skin._

“What are you writing, Eleanor?”

Eleanor’s eyes snap away from her laptop to glance at her boyfriend, and she takes herself out of her internet persona, “LouHazzaBooBear,” and switches back to being Eleanor Calder.

“Some of my creative stories.” She replied.

“Will you show some to me?” Louis asks with a smile.

Sure, Louis: would you like to read the one in which you and Harry go at it so hard the tour-bus shakes and attracts a crowd of spectators or the one in which you and Harry realize your love for each other during an impromptu rendition of Adele’s ‘Skyfall’?

“Maybe.” She flashes her best Mona Lisa smile, and sighs in relief when Louis seems content and refocuses his attention.

Eleanor can’t bring herself to write the rest while Louis is sitting straight across from her on the couch. Although they understand each other and have become very, very close friends since their first meeting, this part of her life is something that not even her best friends know about (the exception was Max – he was a Narry shipper to the end and they used to joke about co-authoring a Nourry love triangle fanfic), and she would prefer to keep it that way.

 

_“I can’t sleep, Louis.” Harry whispers, pulling me closer to him underneath our blankets._

_"Hey. Don’t worry. Whatever it is, it can’t be bad.” I try to keep my tone cheerful, but Hazza remains silent, letting the question settle like lead into water._

_“You know…they don’t like us very much.” Hazza mumbles into the crook of my elbow. I gently twist his hair around my fingers, occasionally rubbing his scalp in slow circles._

_“Too bad; we’re in the band too, and the lads understand and support us. They wouldn’t dream of letting you and your curly hair, the one all the girls want to run their fingers through, go.” We press even closer, twining our legs. Harry has slept naked tonight, he can generate heat better than a furnace, and I made sure to strip to my pants before joining him._

_“Do you think we’ll win?”_

_“I certainly hope so.”_

_“But—we need to win. We need to. We’re so close, and think about how we almost didn’t make it.” His voice breaks, and I hold him tighter. He's always been the one to take things particularly harshly._

_I never let him dwell on them for long; this was the basis on which Harry and I formed our relationship. Harry can always go to Niall for a laugh, to Zayn for a distraction, to Liam for advice, and to me for comfort._

_“We’re already in the finals; that’s amazing as it is. We’re going to do great. We can always kiss on stage, if that gets us more votes.” Harry turns his head into the pillow to muffle his snickers._

_The silence acts as an emollient over us, and we wind more tightly around each other._

_“It doesn’t matter, whether or not we win. We’ll stay together. We’ll all stay together, even if we don’t win.” I whisper, kissing his cheek softly. “We’re more than best friends now.”_

_I feel Harry smile so widely that it threatens to split his face in half. He rolls half on top of me, giggling in nervousness and elation._

_“Lou…”_

_Niall bangs at our bed and sighs exasperatedly. “Do you mind? We can all hear you, and want to get some sleep. Some of us need it.”_

 

Louis and Eleanor had known each other (albeit very superficially) since shortly before X Factor. They had met under truly random circumstances—chatting in a gift shop, of all things, but Louis is the type to start conversations like that. They exchanged numbers (hey, he was the same cute and charming Louis) and sporadically talked that way.

She always sent him congratulatory texts after One Direction made it through to the next round, to which he occasionally replied with a thank you, and they chatted for a bit, but never anything deeper.

Almost half a year later, with the One Direction mania epidemic declared, her house got a phone call, asking for her to come to Modest! Management’s building to talk about the opportunity of a lifetime.

She and her mother went in the car provided, and within the half-hour drive had convinced themselves that they wanted Eleanor for a model and then that it was for a skin mag and then that they had seen that video of her shining in her elementary school play and then that they would actually want someone way younger for whatever they were planning and everything in between.

Ushered into the building and to a private office in the corner of one of the top floors, Eleanor only halfheartedly listened to the man and his mother prattle on about other things as she tried to process what they wanted her to do: go on a formal date with Louis Tomlinson.

A part of her knew that this was coming, sort of. From the moment his face appeared on X Factor, Louis had always given off a certain “gay” vibe. As much as she hates stereotyping, Eleanor couldn’t help but notice and guess. For one, he was always so confident around women, and ironically everyone thinks that a man with such confidence could not be interested in girls. You have to stutter, but not too much; you have to be smooth, but not unctuous. Added to his flattering comments to women of all ages and sizes and differences and talents, he is so wonderful they are afraid that he is heterosexual.

His quirky expressiveness, his penchant for cropped pants and skinny scarves, him and Harry. Jumping into Harry’s arms the moment they became a band, tussling with Harry over who got the single non-bunk bed in their Contestants suite, the hugs and kisses and lingering touches. It was seeing them that Eleanor began to smile at the thought of relationships and romance; they weren’t all flowers and heart balloons, but neither were they self-imposed, delusional traps.

Boy bands were marked by lack of instruments, soft and sometimes derided as ‘effeminate’ features, saccharine bubble-gum-pink songs, and the Gaydar scrutiny. Unfortunately, Louis just happened to get stuck with the gay type. Harry was the flirt, Niall was the comedian, Liam was the brooder, Zayn was the narcissist, Louis was said to be the leader (because that’s the only thing that’s left) but you really can’t label someone a ‘leader’ for long. In his perceived relationship with Harry, Harry looked so boyishly innocent that people seemed to convince themselves that he was the default heterosexual. It’s all pretty terrible, Eleanor thinks.

Not to mention, Louis’s name. It iss so French and, by connotation, so licentious. Harry is an average, spritely lad’s name, fitting for his role as the youngest of the group. Liam is the intense-and-serious with the longest history with the X Factor name. Niall oh-your-name-sounds-so-charmingly-cute Horan and Zayn I’ve-never-seen-it-spelled-that-exotically Malik round out the group.

And so there Eleanor was, being asked to pose as a girlfriend.

Of course she had said yes, because it _was_ the offer of a lifetime.

The agents didn’t do their homework, it seemed: they had never seen her tumblr (and she would do everything to keep it that way) or her fanfiction accounts. They didn’t know how long and how passionately she had squealed over the love that she saw between two men she barely knew, or the time she literally rolled herself into a ball and flopped around on her bed when she saw a perfectly timed and spliced montage of Larry Stylinson.

With her new access to their lives, she could protect them; portray herself as the cool girlfriend who gives her man space for ten hours a day, learn what their favorite foods and drinks were and surprise them with treats, not put Louis under any pressure because she is the understanding girlfriend. If they had offered it to any other girl, what would the chances be that the girl would behave like her? What if some other girl sabotaged Larry?

Yes, the delusion of her nonexistent logic is apparent even to her, but it still does not change her intentions behind her acceptance.

And just like that, they sign her to a boyfriend. On their first date, Louis is courteous. That’s all she can really say about him; they start conversations, awkwardly laugh after moments of silence, eat their food, and talk a bit about each other. It is like their instant messaging, played out in real time.

They said goodnight safely, and Eleanor wanted to pull him into a stage kiss and tell him that she didn’t actually want to do this, regardless of what was between Louis and Harry, Eleanor supported them. She first gives his hand a reassuring squeeze and a small smile, which he returns.

After a few more moments of silence, Louis suddenly leans in and plants his lips over hers, as if he had just remembered what he was supposed to do. And it is every bit as awkward as Eleanor thought it would be. Louis pulls away sheepishly, and Eleanor quickly places her hand on the back of his neck to whisper her message. “Sorry about all this. Just know, regardless of what they ask us to do, I’ll always support you, and I’m glad to be your friend.” He visibly relaxes at her declaration, and kisses her cheek.

Watching his back move towards his car, Eleanor touches her cheek. That kiss had felt so much better, much more genuine.

 

_If you look into the window from the correct angle, you see into their main room from a slight off-left angle. The small black leather couch takes center stage, directly across from the television and is flanked on either side by little tables for holding drinks, snacks, and other little things. Behind the couch, there is the open dining space containing a brown round table and four chairs. At the end of the space, there is the small kitchen with all of its appliances and counter space fit into a U shape._

_They try to close the drapes for that particular window as often as they can, citing privacy and the sun ruining their furniture (they really didn’t give a crap, but who needed to know that?). But, keep the drapes closed for too long, people talk and titter. They once talked about posting up a screen in front of the windows that showed the interior of their rooms exactly as you would see them if observers were looking in from the windows, but eventually thought that the constant emptiness of the rooms would seem too suspicious. So, for a few hours each day they are both home, they open the drapes._

_They take down all of the pictures of them, hanging from the walls, resting on top of the mantelpiece, scattered on the tables. They also change from their more comfortable, slouchy, and smells-like-us clothes into more formal ones, as if they are dressing to prepare for a night out in order to not seem too relaxed around each other. Depending on when the drapes are open, they may not even be seen in the same room. There is no little pile of snack foods precariously perched on a table, no random clothes scattered over the floor or crumpled over the furniture. The flat is spotless and sterile._

 

Aside from her pre-determined public outings, Eleanor has a lot of free time but with limited contact with her friends and family. So, she takes that time to work on her fanfiction. 

In all honesty, she kind of enjoys her role because it allows her to learn about the small and more intimate details of the band’s workings and other facts. Thanks to her inside knowlege, her fics have become more popular because she ‘can characterize them so well’ and think of things that others hadn’t even considered before.  Such as, in Louis and Harry’s flat, in which she has stayed without management’s knowledge because they would have freaked out if they had known. While she was there, she oscillated between creeping around, taking in all of the color schemes and furniture and smells, and sitting stiffly on a chair and trying to take up as little space as possible for fear of spreading out too much in their private space.

Harry becomes accustomed to having Eleanor over, and they talk quite a bit; especially about how they look just different enough for the fans to tell them apart. She is among the first to know that Harry will have his own flat soon, one that has a hidden back entrance for sneaking people into and out of the place.

Although Louis and Harry know the reason that Eleanor is there, they still make an effort to become more familiar with her, asking her various questions about herself and her family. As she answers, she notices the pity in their eyes; they wish that she wasn’t ‘wasting her life’ trying to cover up for them. Eleanor wants to tell them the full truth, to let them know that she hopes nothing comes between them not even her, but hesitates; in reality (as opposed to in her fanfiction), would they be repulsed by her, would everything become awkward again?

So, she bites her tongue and lets the Eleanor Calder persona (not-a-fangirl, loves-shopping-and-all-things-‘girly,’ ‘normal’ Eleanor Calder) take over. She hopes it’s convincing enough; it’s either this personality or the one rolling around on the floor, shaking and crying over how close they are to each other and how easily she may be able to catch them making out if she had the chance.

Eventually, they learn to relax around each other. Their concept of boundaries breaks down so much that Harry once walks into the room completely naked—and as badly as she wants to mention every detail she can remember in her fanfic, she consistently resists out of respect for him—and thinks nothing of it.

 

_Their favorite position is Louis leaning back against Harry’s chest and Harry resting his hands over the curves of Louis’s hipbones._

_They do this after a long day just to reaffirm to each other that they are still there and strong. They do this during dress rehearsals, where nobody bats an eye as they lightly sway to the music and their mouths are so close that they share Louis’s microphone. Feeling their weight against each other grounds them, keeps them feeling solid as outside tension tries to rent them apart. They often fall asleep this way, liking how close they feel from the contact._

_On especially bad days, Louis lies on his stomach and Harry covers him like a blanket; their legs wind around each other’s and they often fall asleep like that. Louis does the same for Harry if he is distressed, holding him and holding him down._

 

When she meets the other members, they have no idea as to how they should treat her.

Liam and Zayn are very courteous to her, they have a bit more perspective about her situation based on what their girlfriends go through by being linked to them, but they also feel very emotionally distant to her. It’s probably for the best, they reason, since it’s all only temporary.

In the others’ absence, she begins talking more and more with Niall.

Niall is the public bridge for Harry and Louis. If Harry wants to skip around in public holding hands, he takes Niall’s hand and they skip in front of Louis. If Louis wants to playfully throw his arms around someone, he sneaks up on Niall, who always seems to be talking with Harry when Louis attacks.

In the group pictures, he carries himself as a conductor between the two; an arm around each of them, hiding their hands behind his back so that they can hold hands as they wish, passively transferring the love for each other that they give off as they lean harder against Niall, looking innocent but poised to suddenly push his two band-mates’ heads together and into a kiss.

To the world, Niall goodheartedly takes Harry and Louis’s affectionate antics because, hey, they were all very close to each other; see how Harry and Louis did this to other members of the band, not just each other?

Like Eleanor, Niall knows about them and he’s willing to make sure that they can be affectionate in public – if not to each other, then through watching them with another. Niall also acts as an extension, touching Harry or Louis freely when the other could not, and able to read his recipient well enough to know when the display may make them uncomfortable.

Niall is the first one to know about Eleanor’s secret since she was signed, and they occasionally smile together in camaraderie whenever they are within each other’s sight. In her head, she thinks of Niall as Harry and Louis’s public softcore-sexual voodoo doll (and she immediately regrets that string of words, vowing to never write that in her fanwork).

The days with him blur together, and soon Niall is casually hooking his arm around her waist while they sit around in their rooms chatting as Louis and Harry looked on. On days when she is alone, she thinks of him talking with her in his lovely Irish accent and instantly feels warmer. She loves it when he laughs, seeing his face curl up adorably around his smile and his scintillating sky-colored eyes as he slowly opens them. She especially loves feeling his laugh vibrate against her ribcage, sending tingles across her skin. In private, they laugh with and tease each other, sometimes stage-kissing to test boundaries and to make the other band members laugh. Everyone actively encourages them; they can all spend more time with each other while getting to know Eleanor better while they all look like one big happy and open group.

As the most observant of the group, Liam first notices Niall and Eleanor; standing arm’s length apart and stiff as statues, looking at each other and all they can think is, damn; why this and why now?

 

_Louis realizes it right after they are eliminated and it is far too late._

_The signs had always been there. He missed Hannah while he was gone for X factor, and called whenever he could. Hannah was completely supportive and understanding, the wonderful girl. They kept talking, animatedly and about everything, whenever they could, but Hannah was going to Uni by the time X factor was airing and the audience was glued to their television screens, and so their time became increasingly rare. When he couldn’t get in touch with her, he found himself going to Harry to talk. Harry didn’t have as much advice as Hannah did, but his propensity for physical affection, soothing touches, and attentive conversation was just as effective for Louis._

_In fact, a lot of things felt the same._

_Talking Harry out of his anxiety and depression was very similar to talking to Hannah when she was feeling particularly insecure. He threw an arm around Harry as casually as he had wrapped one around Hannah. Harry’s fingers lightly squeezing his gave the same electric rush as Hannah’s did. Play-kissing, playful kissing, and not-so-playful kissing became so casual and common with Harry; sometimes they did it without notice and the people who happened to be in the room with them shrugged and returned to the game on their phone or the book they were reading. Endearments easily roll off of Louis’s tongue when he addressed the baby of their band._

_The boy even invades his memory. Harry is the son of the baker who owned a shop in Doncaster, who Louis teases by trying to lick his hair and acts disappointed when it doesn’t taste like chocolate curls. Harry is his friend, sprawled out on the bed and doodling all over the diagrams in his Science study books, which causes Louis’s exam scores to take a hit because he can’t make out the miniscule text that was obscured by Harry’s lovely drawing of a blooming lily. Harry is sitting on his ankles between Louis’s legs as they chat and gaze at each other for hours._

_They learn so much about each other that their memories even begin to enmesh. He and Harry are rolling around on Harry’s bed, barely knowing what they are doing but knowing that it felt too wonderful to stop, when Harry’s stepfather suddenly comes in and Louis is freaking out underneath Harry that he almost misses Harry’s answer to ‘what the hell are you two doing’ – looking for the TV remote._

_Louis realizes it right after they are eliminated and it is far too late; in his mind, Hannah has become Harry, and he had never objected._

 

One Friday night, she likes to call it The Friday Night, she wades through her twitter feed on her phone. ‘Elounor’ is go, and she needs to bite her lips to keep from screaming at her screen that it’s all a trick. She receives the whole spectrum of reaction, from adulation to anathema, by the fandom, and some of the comments are so vitriolic that Eleanor wants to hurl. She doesn’t even know these people, and yet she fears them: what if they are her acquaintances? Her neighbors? Someone randomly passing her on the street? They all know her face; she doesn’t know theirs. She only stops reading when her hand shakes so badly that the screen is blurry, and she has to put her phone down.

Harry comes down the stairs to find her, curled up on the couch and quivering. It seems absurd that she is crying—when did she even start crying?—but she can’t stop. Harry takes her phone and pushes the screen until the device wakes up, and Eleanor kicks herself for not having put a passcode on her phone months ago, when one moment of carelessness had almost revealed her tumblr account to the world.

“No, Eleanor, not these—no, no.” Harry pulls her into a tight hug. Eleanor can smell his hair and, yes, she can tell, he and Louis use the same shampoo. She feels Harry shaking as well, and immediately puts her arms around him.

“Harry, don’t; it’s okay. I-I’m stronger than this. I’ll be fine, I promise. Don’t…do anything…for me.” She tries to soothe him, to keep him from doing something that she is sure would be disastrous.

Harry struggles for words. “Why do you let them, Eleanor?”

“Because I know it’s not true. They’re just a few people in the crowd. I don’t mind.”

Harry easily sees through her vagueness, knowing that she is hiding something. Eleanor shifts under his scrutiny, not expecting this side of Harry Styles.

“Um,” Eleanor carefully brushes some of Harry’s curls out of his eyes. “I…I think you and Louis are wonderful together, and the day will come when you can hold hands and kiss in public. I support you; I have since X Factor.”

His lips part into a radiant smile and Eleanor can sense from the new hug, which he initiates, that he _knows_. When Louis comes back a few hours later, he finds them at the same spot on the couch, watching youtube videos and comfortably leaning into each other. Their gazes dart between each other, and it clicks between the three of them. 

From then on, they form an unspoken schedule. Eleanor and Louis go out in the daytime, usually when they are guaranteed an audience of some sort, and walk around for no more than 2 hours. Eleanor covers for Louis whenever he wants to spend time alone, hinting to others that he is tired and she was buying some get-well things for him.

In the public eye, Harry and Eleanor have nothing to do with each other, as dictated in Eleanor’s contract – and management had a field day with trying to explain how they had known each other to the point that Harry wanted to introduce Louis to her. In private, they giggle about Louis and spend hours talking about whatever comes to their minds, only taking breaks for food (and Eleanor finds out just how amazing a cook Harry is).

Louis and Eleanor find their own niche with each other. The photos that the press don’t take are those when they were in very quiet places, like a bookstore (because who goes to the bookstore on a ‘date’? Well, they do), where they are free to whisper their concerns and bite their lips to keep from laughing too loudly; those are the times that Eleanor and Louis can discuss anything. As they pore through books, their favorites are social satires and those that address the anthropological roots of society’s inconsistent standards, they talk about love and fear, and Eleanor feels her heart sink at how strung up they must feel.

In photograph-bait public, they also don’t act too happy. They act completely as they should; like two strangers who happen to be walking the same way.

To minimize the attention, Eleanor and Louis try to only be together when they need to be. Eleanor thought that it was the best strategy, but she realizes in retrospect that it made everyone look unnecessarily bad.

They are quantum particles; watch them and their behavior changes.

 

_They do find ways to rebel: for one, through tattoos. The mark of freaks, the ultimate expression of freedom._

_Harry’s most easily visible tattoos are on his left arm. Sinistre. The devil’s arm. From the right side, he looks squeaky clean, like the nervous little boy who worked in the bakery before auditioning for X factor. The tattoos also give him a reassuring sense of control; no one can strip him of his skin suit, have someone else wear it, and then move about like a costumed marionette._

_Louis’s tattoos are on his right arm. He is the opposite of Harry, and the markings on his right arm say that what he does is right or should be right. He chooses his tattoo to be in plain sight, and decidedly not worth the effort to cover up every time he goes out in public. The ink is his authorship, his graffiti, his message._

_When the day comes that they can hold hands anywhere without fear, their tattoos will connect them perfectly._

On the third day of their “romantic outing” in Scotland, in reality they sit around like recluses and watch crap telly and try to cook (that was much more Harry’s forte), Eleanor runs downstairs when she hears glass shattering and finds Louis in the living room, one hand over his mouth to keep from screaming, the other bleeding at his side from where he had hit the glass table.

Eleanor approaches him slowly, pausing between each step so he can get used to their closer distance without wanting to push her away. 

“Louis,” she kneels down to his level and carefully lays a hand on his arm, noting how badly he is shaking. “Louis, please, tell me what’s wrong.”

“H-Harry, his best friend from school…his friend died tonight. Harry…” he loses his voice in the thickness of his throat.

Eleanor shifts and hugs him more tightly, trying to clear away the glass around them.

“They won’t let me go to him.” He is crushed by his powerlessness, already knowing how they would react.

Eleanor prides herself on being able to help her friends through almost anything, although some of her tactics weren’t always the most ‘friendly,’ relatively speaking. This time, she sees her opportunity and rushes upstairs, grabbing her phone and texting two numbers, and comes back with a first aid kit and comfort.

As they wait, she bandages his hand, covers him in a blanket and holds him tightly, begs him to tell her the story of how he and Harry came together, again and again until all Louis can remember is how happy he is with Harry. Two knocks and a pound on the door startle Eleanor and Louis, and Eleanor manages to untangle herself from Louis to answer the door.

After a few minutes of gentle coaxing, she convinces him to look up, and to acknowledge the two strangers next to her.

“This is James. He has a car with tinted windows that can get you to Cheshire in a few hours, if the traffic is good and he is able to speed. It’s parked in the garage right now, and he says that he didn’t see anybody with a camera near enough to get any photos. Pack a bag and follow him.

“This is Andrew. You can guess what will happen, since he looks similar enough to you, right? When you pack, leave some clothes here for him to wear, and give him your sunglasses and hat. We’ll do the rest.”

Louis springs with preternatural speed to follow her instructions, and stumbles downstairs a few minutes later with a small sports bag that looked ready to explode from being shoved full of random belongings and toiletries. Oh, well; he can always wear Harry's clothes, Eleanor thinks with a smile. 

Right before he reaches the door, he turns around and pulls her into a tight hug.

“I don’t deserve you, Eleanor.” He whispers.

She kisses his ear. “You and Harry deserve each other. Now, go.”

With one last glance at her, he disappears through the door with James. Eleanor turns to Andrew, who is trying to sweep the broken glass off of the floor, and joins him.

Over the next few days, Eleanor and "Louis" make a few public appearances, and “Louis” got a lot of flak for wearing sunglasses indoors (Andrew couldn’t wear color contacts to change his eye color from dark brown to electric blue, unfortunately). Eleanor regularly receives texts and pictures from Harry and Louis, and in each one Harry glows a little brighter as they finally could spend all of their time alone. She shows them to Andrew and James, and they instantly see why they choose to be accomplices. 

 

_He is magnetic._

_Once you see him, he pulls you in and you can’t break away. It doesn’t matter how far or close to him you are once you are pulled in; you simply begin orbiting around him as if it were the most natural motion in all of creation._

_Perhaps the source is his brilliant mind or his beautiful smile; whatever it is that radiates from him, it has others falling at his feet._

_When he steps, others step with him; he is the center, the star, of the surrounding system. If he were to vanish, the people would disperse, but their lives would crumble. They need him, his unifying force, his centering weight, his balancing nature._

 

At their request, Eleanor sneaks (the best she can, anyways) into their city and briefly meets with them in their hotel room before their next-to-last show on the tour. In some ways, it is the perfect cover-up; she’s ‘visiting her boyfriend in hopes of making up with him’ and simultaneously bringing in more publicity.

Louis opens the door for her before she has the chance to knock, and tightly hugs her before pulling her into the room. Hearing the door slam, she feels Harry throw his weight against her back, squeezing her tighter.

They stay like this for what seems to be hours, hearts beating with excitement. Finally, they pull away and she feels her hands in theirs.

“Everyone knows and agrees, you’ll do it tonight?”  

“Yeah.” Louis says, Harry is too excited to respond with words.

Eleanor hugs them again, the urge to squeal and roll around on the floor present but overpowered by the need to hold them and convey how much she admires them.

Her contract is up, and the boys had gathered enough assured support to stop the farce.

They both lean in and kiss her, their lips fitting perfectly against the hollow beneath each of her cheekbones. She smiles radiantly.

“Could…could I…see you kiss each other?” she asks, suddenly shy.

They look at each other, mirthfully thinking ‘we could get used to this,’ and comply. Eleanor is overwhelmed by her urge to cry ecstatically at the sight, but manages to hold herself in and forget about her feelings and hold them after they separate.

For the rest of the afternoon, they talk about Eleanor. She shows them her tumblr and her fanfiction (well, the good ones anyways), and is fully honest with them, fully Eleanor, and they love her. She shows them some of her favorite fanfics, and giggles uncontrollably when Louis jokingly offers to re-enact a smut scene on the hotel bed. “It would never work like that in real life.” She replies. The look that passes between her two companions arouses Eleanor’s curiosity, and since she no longer has to bite her lips she asks them their questions unabashedly.

A few hours later, Niall, Liam, and Zayn poke their heads in to get Harry and Louis. They also take this chance to say goodbye to Eleanor, hugging her and thanking her for everything. Her and Niall’s hug lingers, and no one wants to interrupt it until they absolutely have to (they had just heard multiple squeals emanating a short distance from down the hallway).

_Chapter 10: This is the end_

_In the finale of their concert, the group presents their cover of Adele’s Skyfall; Harry frequently glances at Louis as he sings. Each glance is longer than the last, his voice lowers throughout the verse. He seems mournful in declaring “this is the end,” but the tremor in his voice had the crowd hushed in anticipation._

_And Louis cannot tear his eyes away from Harry, and slides closer and closer. Niall and Liam take even more steps back, completely opening the path for Harry and Louis. Louis sang his dedication to Harry; for this is the end…I’ve drowned and dreamt this moment…so overdue, I owe them…swept away, I’m stolen…_

_Their harmony is flawless, unparalleled in fervor. The other three members stand behind Harry and Louis, all of them holding themselves up resolutely._

_Niall sings the second verse, his eyes focusing on the space between the two in the front. As they move into the second chorus, the other three line up with Harry and Louis, forming between them a perfect row._

_Let the sky fall, when it crumbles, we will stand tall, and face it all together_

_As Liam and Zayn sing the bridge, their voices resonate with their gusto; so much so that the spectators collectively quiet down as their eyes dart between the five boys on stage in anticipation for something explain the change that had come over the group since they began their song._

_“Ladies and gentlemen,” Niall directs the transfixed audience to his right, and the stadium erupts as Harry and Louis share their first of many public, passionate kisses._

_The other three can barely hear themselves finishing their song: the fans’ shrieking overpower the sound equipment’s capacity._

_Eleanor is on the other side of the world when it happens, unexpectedly at a birthday party, when she sees the pictures. Her face turns red and wet, and although she thinks that the last place at which a camera would be aimed would be her face, she is wrong. Within minutes, a suspiciously high-definition picture of her reaction is being retweeted, reblogged, shared, pinned, everything-ed among the fandom’s circle. The fans’ conclusions for her tears vary wildly: out of disgust that she had dated a ‘faggot,’ out of sadness that her shot at fame is completely over, out of relief that her lie is over and she can fade back into obscurity._

_In truth, she cries for many reasons._

_Out of joy, because her dream is attained and Harry and Louis can display their happiness to the world without a care._

_Out of fear, because her dream is real and reality is the reason why we dream._

_Out of sadness, because she and Louis will never be able to talk to each other again for fear of agitating an over-eager paparazzi over the possibility of ‘trouble in gay paradise.’_

_Out of relief, because they are all free._

_What the camera doesn’t capture is how a few seconds later she kisses the screen of her phone, whispering “I’m so proud of you.”_

Review for: ‘Chapter 10: This is the end’

“OMG! Your fic predicted the future!!! How did you know it was going to happen like this??”


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